


Love, Redemption, All That Junk

by SandyQuinn



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, basically crack fic, i'm just collecting this from a post in tumblr so i can find it again, short 'n dorky just the way you like 'em!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6598597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyQuinn/pseuds/SandyQuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford can't believe this is happening. Now Stanley's ruining his arch-nemeses too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Redemption, All That Junk

“I can’t believe this,” Stanford said, his voice hollow.

“Well, y’know,” Stanley scratched the back of his head. “You try to completely destroy their existence, wipe 'em off the face of the Earth, then you end up in a sort of an awkward situation where everyone’s still alive, _then_ you find some kind of a common topic and all of a sudden, one thing leads to another –“

“No,” Stanford said, “no, don’t go on, I don’t want to – no. This is – _no_. This is _madness_!”

“Well, y’know what you people _say_ , Sixer,” Bill crooned, floating to gaze into Stanley’s eyes, batting his eyelashes. “Love can be a little bit _bonkers_.”

As Stanford watched, they intertwined their fingers, Bill’s black spindly ones nearly disappearing between Stanley’s hairy knuckles.

They were doing this on purpose, he just knew it.

“Oh, _snuggle-nacho_ ,” Stanley sighed out in his gravely voice.

“Sugar-wrinkles!” Bill simpered.

Stanford was going to pop a vein.

“ _Those are not even real pet-names_!” he hissed. “You’re just putting words together – I –“ He back-tracked, remembering the bigger issue here. “Stanley, he’s _evil_!”

Stanley squinted at him. “Didn’t ya date him once?”

“That’s how I _know_!” Stanford snapped.

“That’s not an issue anymore, Sixer!” Bill announced proudly. “Just call me Bill ‘goody-two-shoes’ Cipher!”

“What,” Stanford said.

“I’m a new triangle! I’m reformed! This squishy mortal’s monkey instincts have saved me! Praise be – _me_!”

“He’s reformed, Ford,” Stanley put in enthusiastically.

“No more skilful manipulation of hapless mortals for this one, no sir,” Bill added virtuously.

Then - as Stanford stared incredulously - he cackled. Maniacally.

“That!” Stanford pointed aggressively, his hand trembling a little bit. “Is that _convincing_ to you, Stanley? He’s _fooling_ you!”

“What?” Stanley turned his head, peering at Bill, non-plussed. “He just laughed. What’s so wrong about that?”

“That wasn’t a laugh! That was a, a cackle! He’s – he’s playing you like a _fiddle_ , Stanley- “

“Oh, I _wish_ ,” Stanley smirked.

“Easy there, tiger!” Bill exclaimed, batting Stanley playfully. “I’ll be playing with ya plenty, don’t you worry about that!”

He cackled again.

“Did you hear that?” Stanford demanded, the rest of his brain performing desperate acrobatics to ignore everything else he’d just witnessed. “He just admitted it! He admitted that he’s going to use you!”

“Oh, he just _does_ that,” Stanley waved his hand dismissively. “Y’know, slipping out things like ‘just you wait, Pineses’ and ‘death, doom, destruction, all glory to Bill Cipher’. It’s like a, y’know, like a verbal tick!” He looked fond. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Yer making me blush, Fez!”

Stanford had had enough.

“You are a fool, Stanley Pines,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “A bumbling, thoughtless fool!”

“Didn’t ya use those exact words back when I ate yer Rice Krispies Treats?” Stanley observed. “Stings kinda less now.”

“ _Ma made those for me_!”

There was a sort of an awkward pause.

Stanford took a deep breath, and adjusted his coat. He was very much trying to pretend his voice hadn’t climbed as high as it just had.

“Fine,” he snapped, harshly. “Be an idiot, then. It’s not like it’s the first time!”

“Aw, Ford, don’t be like that –“

“Yeah! C’mon, Sixer!” Bill made eye-contact with Stanford behind Stanley’s back, squinting his eye with malicious glee, before he did a little cut-throat gesture, jerking his thumb at Stanley. “Be a pal!”

Stanford glared at both of them, balefully, and then turned, stomping off, muttering under his breath something about death rays and equilateral nuisances.

“Well, that was fun!” Stanley exclaimed. “I’d say we keep it up, if he weren’t planning on murdering your sorry yellow ass!”

Bill cackled, landing lightly onto Stanley’s shoulder. “Did’ya see his face? He was turning purpler than Xanthar!” He paused. “Get it, because Xanthar’s purple –“

“Yeah, sheesh, I got it,” Stanley interrupted. “I’m not as dumb as I pretend to be, y’know.”

“Don’t I know it,” Bill said, crossing his legs daintily. If he had a mouth, he would’ve been smirking. “How many of my plans have ya foiled so far? Three? Four?”

“Five,” Stanley said dryly. “Not that I’m really counting. I mean, ya call those things plans? I know a _ten-year-old_ more conniving than you are.” He paused. “Yer laugh’s better, though,” he added, graciously.

“Ya gotta laugh all the way from the astral plane, is the trick,” Bill said helpfully. “So, what’re we gonna do now, Stanley?”

“We should probably ditch Gravity Falls for a while,” Stanley mused. “Just while Ford works out some of that steam.” He paused, staring into the middle distance. Bill’s corner was poking gently against his ear, but he ignored it. “How would’ya feel about Las Vegas? Got plenty of idiots to trick there.”

“I _do_ like gullible idiots…” Bill agreed, slowly.

“And shrimp. Ya ever had shrimp?”

“I’m a timeless being whose mere existence spits in the face of physics,” Bill said. “Whaddya _think_?”

“You’re gonna like it,” Stanley said, satisfied.

He could use with a little breather. And he’d never got to pull any two-man cons before. Granted, Bill was a floating triangle, but they could work around that. Put a coat around him, maybe, or, if Bill didn’t catch on, just tie a string around his leg and tell him not to speak…

And _if_ they happened to come back with a marriage certificate that Stanley could casually leave lying around for Stanford, well. What could be better than that?

 


End file.
